


Jack's Monster

by Szarka



Category: The Incredible Hulk (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Post-Season/Series 01 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 07:38:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12766242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Szarka/pseuds/Szarka
Summary: Jack McGee picks up David Banner while he is hitch-hiking. This was written after I finished the first season, so it completely ignores everything that happened after season 1 episode 12. I just really needed to see them actually meet for once.





	Jack's Monster

**Author's Note:**

> So I fell in love at once with The Incredible Hulk tv series in general and David in particular, and there really aren't enough fanfics to it anywhere. But that isn't even the reason why I wrote this, I just really, really needed David and Jack to meet once, and somehow came up with the idea that the funniest way for that to happen would be if he picked him up on the road while hitch-hiking. Watching those two idiots chasing each other in circles really never gets old, does it?
> 
> (Jack somehow ended up asexual in this story. It really wasn't on purpose, but somehow seems to work pretty well, so good headcanon, I'll keep it. David, like all superheroes, is bisexual per default.)
> 
> I WROTE THIS AFTER I FINISHED WATCHING SEASON 1, SO EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED LATER IS NOT TAKEN INTO CONSIDERATION!!

The car passed by without as much as slowing down. Again. Hitchhiking had this side : Some days, you found easily people who let you ride along, and held funny conversations while doing so. On other days, there were either no cars, or they just didn't pick you up. Not to mention the weird ones, whom all the hitchhikers feared. So far, he'd been relatively lucky in that regard.

Dr. David Banner adjusted his sack, and turned to continue his way on foot. Still an hour or two before it got dark, there was no use wasting it. It got dark early, these days, and the temperatures dropped at night, even if during the day, it was still warm enough to be outside in a shirt. But David had to face the truth: Summer was over, and living on the street would become rather difficult in the near future. He had to get to a town as quickly as possible, and find a job that he would be hopefully able to keep for a few months. Maybe he'd have saved up enough for a train ticket than, and could get to the next one without having to spend multiple days outside in the snow. Not to forget all the extra expenses that would come in the form of winter clothing…

Too far ahead. First things first, there was this conference in two days, a conference of the world's top scientists in the fields of medicine, genetics and psychology, and it was open to public. He had to get there and find out if there was any progress worth looking into. Besides, in a city big enough to have a university (a pretty big and famous one, too), there were always jobs if you knew where to look. And by now, David Banner had more than enough experience in that.

He heard the car approach from far. He also saw it, when he turned and looked back, coming his way. Not that there were any other ways to go, it was one of those long straight roads in the middle of nowhere, fields on both sides as far as the eye could see. The good thing was, this way, he knew for certain that the driver was going in the right direction.

Without too much hope, David stepped a little out on the road, so that he would be better visible, and held up his thumb. As per miracle, the car actually slowed down and stopped right next to him. Maybe he wouldn't have to spend the night in the open after all. David opened the door, ready to answer the usual “Where are you headed?” question, and felt all sound die off on his lips.

He found himself face to face with Jack McGee, sitting behind the wheel, looking him over with a triumphing look in his eyes that was more terrifying than even David would have imagined. And he had imagined a lot of terrifying situations involving Jack McGee over the past year.

David stared back, frozen like a mouse hypnotized by a snake, unable to move or to even form a coherent thought. For over a year, he had been running from this man, escaping by a hair more times than he could count, watching him pass his hiding with his heart pounding in his throat. Now, he was caught. Alone on a street miles away from the nearest person, there was nowhere to run, no place to hide.

« Dr. Banner. » If McGee was surprised, so he didn't show it. His voice was smooth, a little arrogant. Clearly, he too knew which one of them wielded all the power. « Why don't you get in. »

Still numb, David could feel his body act without his input. He watched himself, like an outsider, nod and get in the car. He pulled the door shut, than proceeded to press himself against it as much as possible, hugging his bag like some kind of anchor. The reporter started the engine, and David was trapped for good.

They were silent for a while. McGee pretended to focus on the road, but David could feel his looks on him. He couldn't bear to meet his enemy's eyes, carefully looking into the opposite direction.

« I suspected that you were alive. », broke McGee the silence in the end. « You're running from that creature, is that it? »

David remained silent. The numbness had started to wear off, giving place to an overwhelming urge to flee, to run away as fast as his legs would carry him. It was a stupid impulse, and he suppressed it. Soon, it had passed, leaving him feeling empty.

« Or, » continued the reporter, « maybe you are controlling it? How else did you survive that fire, Dr. Banner? And why else would you be hiding from the authorities? »

David dared a quick look at him from the corner of his eyes. The other man was sitting comfortably in his seat, both hands on the wheel, looking alternatively between his prey and the road. He had him cornered, and he knew it. Their eyes met, and David shied away, as if he'd been hit with a stick. McGee smiled.

« Of course, accusing you openly would have been impossible, they think I am mad enough for pursuing the creature. But now that I have found you, things will be different. That thing will pay for its crimes, I assure you, and you… Your hands are shaking? »

The question sounded honestly surprised. David looked at his hand clenching the bag, and noticed that McGee was right: He was trembling uncontrollably. It wasn't anger or fear: After the first shock had passed, he had become surprisingly calm, almost to the point of dissociating. He no longer wanted to run away, in fact, he was feeling too weak to even stand on his own two feet, and just wanted to curl up in some dark corner and sleep. There was not much else left that he could do, was there?

« Are you all right? » For the first time, Jack McGee didn't sound proud or arrogant, but concerned.

David took a moment to collect himself, swallowed, than took another moment to summon up enough strength to answer.

« Yes, I'm fine, it's just… I haven't eaten all day, that's all. »

It was the truth. He'd been on the road for longer than he had anticipated, not entirely without the fault of that one car that had taken him further than it should have. He'd eaten all the food that he'd brought with him a day and a half ago, and couldn't buy any, because the last two drivers had passed by all the gas stations, and when he was on foot, there somehow weren't any far nor near. His water supply was about to become a problem, too. He'd drunk the last remains of his bottle a couple of hours ago. Walking in tomorrow’s midday sun would be a lot more uncomfortable and a lot more dangerous than the doctor in him was willing to accept.

« Look in the glove compartment. I always have a muesli bar or two in there. »

It took him multiple tries to get his hands enough under control to open the glove compartment. There were a couple of pens inside, some notebooks, and other papers. He found the muesli bar, tore it open at the second try, and forced himself to eat it slowly and chew thoroughly instead of swallowing the whole in two bites. After he'd finished, he felt a little better: He was no longer dissociating, the veil around his feelings had dropped a little, and his hands were steadier.

« Thank you. »

McGee just hummed in response and continued his previous line of thought as if nothing had happened.

« I really want to know how you have escaped from that fire. I was there, there was no way you could have got out. The creature, right? It must have taken both of you outside, and you got away while it was busy with Dr. Marks. I didn't see you, because... Because... I was under shock, maybe I'd blacked out for a moment. I still don't understand how you could have hidden your tracks so well that the police didn't find anything, there were officers all over the place, and they had dogs. I must have gone over all available information at least a dozen times, and some things still don't add up. I was wondering so often what it was that you and Dr. Marks knew. You were working on stopping that thing, weren't you? Yet after she died, you didn't continue your research, but faked your death and run. So _she_ must have been the one who knew more. That is why the creature killed her first, am I right? »

The mention of Elaina and the night of her death ripped open old wounds that had never properly healed in the first place. Over a year later, David felt just as helpless and terrified at the memory as he had back than. Elaina had died of her wounds caused by the fire, he knew that for sure. Or, had she? How could he know that the creature hadn't… _It won't kill because David Banner won't kill._ That's what she'd said. But what if she had been wrong?

«  Mr. McGee, please don't talk to me about Dr. Marks' s death. »

« Why not? Surely you would like to see her killer punished? The thing that made you a fugitive for all this time? »

David rubbed his face. He only wanted the subject to be dropped.

« As a matter of fact, no, I don't. I just want to forget about it, and move on. »

« As an undocumented bartender? Surely there is a reason why you had to leave your life, leave your research, leave everything you've ever worked for! »

David didn't say anything.

« Dr. Banner, I have seen the corpse of your colleague. Should I describe it to you? She was burned on several places, and there were traces of fingerprints on both of her arms. Her head… »

Irritation started to rise in David, closely followed by  panic . He took a deep breath and slowly let it out.  _You've got this._ He had remained calm in more difficult circumstances, he could do it now.

« I've told you to stop it! » It came out louder than it was supposed to.  _Easy, David, you_ _'ve_ _got this._

McGee too noticed the effects of his words, and smiled triumphantly. To him, this was a victory: Agit a ted people  were more likely to say something interesting  that a reporter c ould snatch on to, if he  was any good. And McGee  _was_ good, regardless of what  everyone thought of the  _National Register_ .

«  Come now, Dr. Banner, I am trying to look at the bigger picture here. That monster of yours hasn't killed again yet, but how do you know that it won't? It's appearances are rather random, aren't they? The only thing common I could find in them was you. So far, it has attacked  _pregnant mothers_ ,  _children_ . How can you know that the next time... »

David tried to ignore him, but it was getting more and more difficult to concentrate over the pounding of his own blood in his ears. What was this man even thinking! Who had given him permission to go poking around in other people's personal life! He could have stayed a little longer in some places, had it not been for him…

_Easy, David. You've got this. You've got this. Easy. Stay calm. You've got this, you've got this, YOU'VE GOT THIS!!!_

« Dr. Marks knew this. She knew something, Dr. Banner, what did she know? »

David felt the control slip away and the creature take over. He didn't have long, and it would trash the car and probably seriously injure McGee, no matter how hard David fought against it.

« Stop the car! STOP THE CAR, NOW!! »

As if per miracle,  the reporter actually  listened and stopped dead in the middle of the road. David opened the door so violently that he half fell out, stumbled, than regained his balance, shouted «  Stay here! » without looking back,  or  at least he thought he did, and run blindly away, off the road and out on the field. Nothing mattered, except to get away from the car and the man inside, as far  away as possible. He could vaguely hear McGee behind him shout his name, than everything  blurred .

 

The next thing he knew, he was sitting in the middle of the remains of a haystack. David rubbed his face, slowly regaining control of himself. The sun was a little lower than what he remembered. He was out on a field, neat hay balls standing in regular distances around him. The one he was sitting on, or in, depending on the definition, was completely devastated, hay lying around everywhere within a perimeter of four meters. Luckily, he hadn't been wearing his jacket when he transformed, and he still had the remains of his torn shirt. Mr. McGee was sitting on his heels in front of him around three meters away, with a look in his eyes that, if possible, was even scarier than the one he'd had back in the car.

« Dr. Banner? » The reporter dropped on his hands and knees and carefully crept closer. « Dr. Banner, can you understand me? »

«  Did... » David slowly regained his voice. « Did I hurt you? »  Always t he first question after a transformation. The only question that  mattered .

« No, you only roared and threw around the hay. » McGee was keeping his voice calm, and approached David as slowly and carefully as he would a wild animal. « Don't you remember? »

David shook his head. « I never remember what happens when I'm… Not in control. »

« That was the most incredible thing that I've ever seen. » The closest thing that David could describe the look in McGee's eyes as was _hunger_. It was the look of a man working for a paper specializing on paranormal things presented on a silver platter with the creature he'd been chasing for over a year. It was the look of a reporter who knew that right in front of him was the story of the century. It was the look of a man looking at an embodiment of everything he wanted, and who would do anything, _anything_ to get it.

That moment, David knew for sure that there would be no escape for him this time.

But McGee wasn't stupid, and he was well aware of the risks. He would play it safe. He would be slow and careful, do his best not to spook David and to have a way out if he did. That really was the worst part: They both knew the game they were playing, they both knew the other knew, and they both knew that there was no other option left for David except to play along.

« It happens each time when I'm angry. Or if I get hurt. » If this was the way it would be, than the best option left for him was to provide as much information about his condition than he could. The more McGee knew, the safer they both would be. « I can't control it, and I have no control over what I do when… It happens. I sometimes even turn in my sleep, and wake up in a devastated room, or somewhere on the streets with no idea how I got there. »

« How are you feeling? » McGee was now close enough to touch David's knee, and stayed there, sitting on the grass. Since David himself was still on the remains of the hay ball, he had the advantage of being somewhat higher.

« Tired. A little disorientated, but that has mostly passed. Right now, also hungry and thirsty and a little cold. And I often have feelings of guilt and strong self-hatred. »

The reporter nodded.

« Is there anything else I should know? »

« I didn't kill Elaina. Mr. McGee, please, you've got to believe me. She died of her wounds from the fire. I would never... » It was not what he had been planning to say, but now that he'd started talking, he couldn't stop. « I faked my death, because I am a danger for all around me, and I run, because I could never prove that I didn't do it. I have been looking for a cure ever since, but so far, I have not been successful. »

McGee nodded again. « I believe you. », said he seriously. « It didn't completely make sense, the way the witnesses described the creature's behavior wouldn't quite fit with it committing double murder. But it was the best explanation we had. »

Despite the fact that there was no reason whatsoever for the reporter to tell the truth if a lie would advance his goals further, and that it was extremely improbable that he would be convinced this easily, David felt as if a huge rock had been rolled from his chest, and he could breath now more freely. There were still enough similarly heavy rocks left to weight him down, but the difference was remarkable.

« Why don't we go back to the car. », continued McGee. « There are still a few miles that we can get behind us today, you can tell me the whole story when we're driving. Off record, naturally. »

He waited for him to nod before standing up and offering his hand to help David on his feet. He didn't accept it, and refused any assistance walking. He was all right, he didn't need help from the man who had been singlehandedly responsible for most of the disagreeable things that had happened to him during the past year.

They were almost at the car when McGee  finally asked the question “Where are you headed?”. As it turned out, he too was going to the  conference, to report on it for the  _National Re_ _g_ _ister_

 

They ended up sleeping in the car, because two and a half hours of driving later, there still wasn't a trace of humans in sight. Luckily, Jack had been experienced enough to bring dinner, only that he had prepared it for one person instead of two.

They shared the sandwiches, even though Dr. Banner didn't seem to be happy to accept any form of help and still wasn't able to meet Jack's eye. As to Jack, he felt a little bad about keeping so much food from a man who hadn't eaten for days while he himself always had enough. Banner had done his best not to devour everything all too quickly, and had politely refused to accept any of Jack's share.

He was now sleeping in the back of the car, while Jack stayed in the front, with his leather bag. Not that there was really anywhere Banner could run, but he could get himself “lost” and hide in the fields given twenty minutes, and Jack didn't want to risk it. He'd also locked the doors, like he always did when he was spending the night in the car, and packed the key safely in the inside pocket of his suit. But that wouldn't stop the scientist if he decided to flee. Neither would keeping his bag in the front, but at least he could make it as difficult for him as possible.

To both of their surprises, Banner had fallen asleep almost immediately. Jack on the other hand was awake for a long time, thinking through everything his hitchhiker had told him.

That first story around the Hulk had bothered him ever since he'd first published it, even if he refused to publicly admit it. He had no second thoughts, at least not about writing it. If there was a murderous monster around, than people had the right to know about it, and the newspapers the duty to make sure that they did. No, what had haunted Jack's thoughts even before the second sighting was how incomplete he had been. Too much information was missing, too much mystery remained unsolved. When it happened for the second time, he'd known that the creature would not go away until someone made it to. This had been his main aim during the next few sightings: Track it down and help the local police to catch it. But the more time passed, the stranger the whole story became. Somehow, the creature's behavior didn't make any sense. For starters, how did something big, green and violent like that get from one point of the country to a totally unrelated other without being seen? And how did it pick it's destination? But more importantly: Why weren't there any other mortal victims? Seriously injured, yes, but why hadn't it killed again?

He had followed every trail, read every account, talked to every witness, and still there were huge gaps in his investigation. The only thing common he could come up with, and it had taken him a very long time to see it, was that there often seemed to be a man named David around when the Hulk appeared, whom the witnesses usually remembered fondly. Dark hair, very kind and helpful. The only remarkable thing on this David was that he was impossible to find. He had always “just left”, no they didn't know where, no, he was not coming back. Oh no, they hadn't known him for long, he had just shown up one day looking for a job, and papers… No, no, of course Jack wouldn't tell the police. He had tried to trace back the Davids, but that was so impossible that he was getting certain that their names were false. The conclusion that it was the same man every time was rather logical.

Connecting that David to David Banner wasn't a wide shot, but it wasn't an easy one, and Jack was still proud of having taken it. After thinking and rethinking everything, he'd finally convinced himself to pack a picture of Dr. Banner, and showed it to witnesses at the next sighting, trying not to feel too stupid while doing so. They recognized him. He asked other witnesses, with the same result. After that, Jack had gone back in time to older sightings, made phone calls, asked everyone who would talk to him, and at every crime scene, multiple people knew the man in the photograph. Ah yes, that was David. Oh no, they hadn't seen him since he'd left, no, they still didn't know anything about his background, or anything else. But he was very welcome to pay them a visit now and then, he really had helped a lot.

Despite it's reputation, the _National Register_ was just like any other normal newspaper that Jack knew. There were a few coworkers there who fit the stereotype of believing in cryptids and insane conspiracy theories, but most of them only did their job of writing and publishing articles that people expected of them. They took it seriously, followed their leads and checked their sources. Their definition of what counted as a “reliable source” was only a little bit more lose than by other papers.

Before he'd been assigned to report on Dr. Banner's experiments, Jack had been one of those. But now, suddenly he _had_ a crazy conspiracy at hand, and he was out of his depth about what to do with it. His colleagues were already mocking him for taking the Hulk seriously, adding dead scientists to the list of suspects would not help his cause. So he just remained quiet about it, continued his investigations the way he had been doing them, and collected further evidence for the future.

Reporting on the Hulk had also forced him to reconsider _why_ exactly he'd ended up working where he had in the first place. Until than, he'd thought that it was a coincidence, or that they payed him well, or that he liked the work conditions and how many liberties he had. The weirder articles published in the same paper were completely unrelated to his decision. But than came the moment, when he had been running from one end of the country to the next on his chase after the big green creature long enough, that Jack had to admit that he very much cared about the weirder things. When he thought about it, he'd always read what his colleagues wrote about the paranormal occurrences. Why? Was it really just to see their style?

He realized how much he had been fooling himself when he had come face to face with the creature. When it had saved his life. He had been afraid, yes, but mostly, he'd been _fascinated_. That thing was wonderful, in an inhuman kind of way, and intelligent enough to understand spoken words. Maybe not the language, but the tone and the gestures certainly. Months later, he still dreamt about that encounter, and how it could have ended, had they not been interrupted.

Jack looked again at the man sleeping in the back of his car. He had offered Banner his sleeping bag, but of course he hadn't accepted it, and had instead rolled himself into his jacket as much as possible. He looked peaceful, and no-one would ever guess that this quiet, dark haired man had any connection to the raging green creature. His monster. That was what everybody called it, _Jack's monster_.

Finding out that it was really a man made oddly sense. It certainly explained a great deal, and Banner had taken care of the rest. Jack wasn't sure yet how to feel about his discovery. Objectively, it was a victory. He had achieved what he'd set out to do. He had wanted to solve the mystery, now he knew everything. He had wanted to find the creature, there it was sleeping in the back of his car. He had reached his goal. Everyone had laughed at him, but he had prevailed and proven that he was right. He could be proud of himself. All that was left now was to write the article. And yet…

It didn't feel over. Or maybe Jack just didn't want it to be. Had it really been an animal, they could have simply tried to lock it up, but a man, that was something different. And if he was being honest, than Jack had to admit that he had grown quite possessive of the Hulk. After all, who wouldn't be, after all that time and effort of chasing it? He didn't want to give it up, now that he'd finally found it. The truth was even more fascinating than the mystery had been. The way Banner had transformed, both times… Seeing that twice was not enough. Jack wanted more.

On the other hand, he would have to be careful not to let his fascination get the better of him. Regardless of everything, Dr. Banner was still a human being, with human rights like the right to chose whether or not to speak to the people Jack wanted him to speak to, and the right to decide whom he wanted to show what of his body, no matter if it was ordinary and human or big and green. The last thing that Jack wanted was to violate these rights. He didn't wish to harm Dr. Banner, he only wanted… The creature.

 

It turned out that there really was a gas station only a half an hour drive away, and it also had a small shop and an even smaller restaurant, so they could get a warm breakfast. David used the opportunity to buy some provisions of food and water, and two new shirts. He was running out of those, and even if not, his clothes urgently needed to be washed, if he was planning on wearing them at the conference.

He was feeling much better than he had the previous day, proper food and a full night's rest seemed to have worked miracles. He had also come down from the first shock of unexpectedly running into McGee, and saw things a little more rationally: The reporter wasn't an immediate danger. He had been, just a day ago, but now that the damage was done and the secret was out, there was no real reason left not to be in the same room as he was. As long as he didn't provoke David into losing his control, of course, but he trusted McGee's intelligence in this regard.

As if he was trying to prove him right, his captor didn't bring up the creature again, talking instead about the conference and asking David what some of the more scientific descriptions of the studies discussed meant. Whether he knew it or not, this was the best decision that he could have possibly made: Talking about science helped to put David at ease more than anything else would have.

The day passed relatively quietly. The closer they were getting to their destination, the darker the sky became, and by the time they were driving between buildings, it was raining heavily.

« Just what we needed. », said McGee. « We're going to be soaked wet by the time we cross the parking lot. »

« It isn't a bad thing. », said David. « The ground was dried out, the plants really could use some water. »

« Just be happy that you are not outside alone on an empty road in this weather. »

David leaned his head against the window. He was so tired of running.

« I am. I really am very grateful for your help. »

« Don't mention it. » McGee turned left at a crossing. « So, is there anywhere specific where you are going now? »

« You can let me out anywhere. »

That McGee would actually suggest to let him simply walk away sounded a little bit surreal. But of course it made sense. He was there for his job, he couldn't just turn up with a random stranger he'd picked up on the side of the road. Besides, no need for him to invest any energy, David would be forced to keep a close eye on him either way, to make sure that his secret remained unpublished. If the reporter wanted to talk to him, he wouldn't be very difficult to find.

« No, I asked if you have a place to go to once you get out of this car. »

David sighed. « Not really, no. I was planning to look for a job, but it is too late now, and the conference lasts three days, so I guess I'll try and find a room, and do the rest after it's over. »

He still had some money left, probably just enough for a very cheap room for three nights. After that, he'd be left with nothing and would be forced to take a job as fast as possible, so that he could eat the next evening.

McGee stopped at a crosswalk, just in time to avoid running over a group of chatting university students with their heads pulled between their shoulders against the rain, who even by accident wouldn't have looked left or right before stepping on the street. He waited for them to pass before answering.

« In that case, why don't you stay with me? »

David look at him in surprise. The reporter made a vague hand gesture that was probably supposed to indicate all the surrounding buildings.

« Busy town. We have almost every month something to report here, and it is usually close to impossible to find a room, so the _National Register_ ended up buying a small apartment for us to live in when we're here. It really was meant for only one person, but we are allowed to have visitors, if we follow certain rules. You'd have to sign a statement saying that you don't work for any rival papers and that I don't receive any profit from letting you in the newspaper's property, but that is mostly it. »

Obviously, the _National Register's_ reputation for being a weird place didn't come completely out of nowhere. Of all the jobs David had worked, none would have ever agreed to an employee using their resources for a personal gain.

David thought about it. Logically, he should run and get away from McGee as far as possible. The reporter still couldn't publish the truth, because he didn't have anything to prove it except for his own word. But if he could persuade David to come public, or even just took a picture of him... The longer he stayed in his proximity, the more likely he was to become himself the evidence that would doom him.

But leaving only would have made any sense if he could disappear. Meaning that he would have to get out of town, and the conference was too important for that. If there was even just a slight chance that he would find a cure... Well, it was his obligation to look into it. Not just towards himself and Elaina's memory, but also towards all the innocent and unsuspecting people around him, whom he put into danger every single day by his mere existence. McGee knew now that he was alive, he knew that he was present, and he knew roughly what subjects he was interested in. It wouldn't be too difficult for him to find David again any moment of the conference, and in that case, what was the point of hiding? He might just as well accept the offer of a free housing and save his money for more important things.

The core of the problem was, he didn't know McGee. By now, it felt as if the man was one of his oldest acquaintances, but they had never actually talked before the previous day. Most of their relationship consisted of McGee chasing the creature, and David running and hiding from him. The man he felt he knew didn't exist except for in his imagination, and the only thing that David knew about the real McGee came from that smalltalk they'd had earlier that day about music.

He thought back of the way the reporter had looked at him the previous evening, and it still frightened him. Or had he? David hadn't had a very clear head because of hunger, fear and exhaustion. Maybe he'd only seen what he'd expected to see.

The real McGee seemed nice enough. David had already known that he was clever, brave, determined and extremely loyal to his friends and principles. Now he also knew that he was pleasant company and that they liked more or less the same kind of music.

But before all that…

« Mr. McGee, you do know that I am dangerous, don't you? »

The reporter turned his head, so that he could smile directly at the fugitive scientist sitting next to him.

« I know, Dr. Banner. One more reason not to let you out of my eyes. »

For the fraction of a moment, he looked again like he had on the field, but it was gone before David had the time to react. He wasn't even completely sure that it had happened in the first place.

Certainly it was nothing. So far, McGee had been relatively kind since he knew the full story, and he had principles, which made staying with him more predictable and considerably less dangerous than an average day on the road. And if he tried something, well, David wasn't completely helpless. His wits, ability to improvise and the brute force of the creature had kept him from coming to alto serious harm over the past year. He would come up with something this time, too.

He straightened up in his seat and put on his most friendly smile.

« Dr. Banner is dead. Call me David. »

This time, McGee's eyes were warmer than ever before as he returned the smile.

« Call me Jack. »

 

The paper he had to fill out asked for his name (David Brown), his relation to McGee - Jack - (old friends), how long he was staying with him (three days and four nights) and his guarantee that he didn't work for any rival newspapers. David filled it out, while Jack climbed on a chair to see the top of the wardrobe. He came back with a piece of paper saying _H_ _i Next One, h_ _ave fun, check your facts, and_ _don't forget to take your meds_.

« From Claire. We always leave a message to whoever is next here, just for fun. »

« What medicine is she talking about? », asked David, slightly curious. He wasn't aware that Jack took anything, and the note didn't seem to be addressed to one specific person.

« It's just a silly inside joke. Tania has been on antidepressants for two years now. She likes to joke about it, so after a while, we all started randomly telling each other to take our meds. »

David didn't find it silly at all, on the contrary, it impressed him how open Tania could be about her mental health with her coworkers. He heard psychologists talk about stigma and the massive harm it caused on a fairly regular basis, and Jack didn't even seem to realize how much he and his colleagues helped her with their attitude. But he didn't say anything, just handed over the filled in paper.

Jack raised his eyebrows at the “Brown”, but did not comment on it.

The apartment really was small, almost just a big room with a corner built out to a kitchen, and a miniature bathroom. The furniture consisted of the closet, a bed that was too big for one but too small for two people, a couch, and a desk with a typewriter on it. David wondered where the reporters were supposed to eat, since there was no kitchen table, than decided that they probably all went out for most of their meals.

It was empty, but not unfriendly. The walls were a light beige, and the warm brown furniture fit very well. On the windowsill stood a potted plant that David knew didn't need much water, and could go without any for months. Over the bed hung a framed picture of the _National Register_ logo, and a clock was ticking on the wall just behind the desk. It was getting late,  time to get some sleep if they were to get up in time the next day. Besides, they were both tired of the day spent in the car.

«  You can have the bed. », said Jack and started to carry his bag in the direction of the  couch , but David held him back.

« No, please. » It was a little embarrassing. « I don't want to be any trouble. »

« You are not. »  Jack put down the bag in the middle of the room and turned to smile reassuringly at his guest. « I  tend to neglect my sleep when I'm working anyway. As long as you don't mind the lamp burning at 2  a.m , the rest doesn't really matter. »

« No, of course I don't mind. » David pointed at the couch. « Please? I really don't... »

The journalist shrugged. « Suit yourself. » He picked up his bag and put it down on the bed. « Do you want the sleeping bag? »

« No, thank you. But if you could point me to the nearest washing machine? »

His host rolled out the sleeping bag. « Of course. Turn left when you leave the building, than on the corner left again.  Third door, you can wash your things there. »

He seemed to have forgotten David before the latter even left the apartment.

 

The first day of the conference passed mostly exactly like Jack had expected. There was a fancy opening ceremony, and a lot of presentations held by scientists where they tried to explain their research to each other and to the assembled journalists. There were too many to attend to them all, so Jack had picked a handful from whom he knew that they used a comprehensible English, and one or two whose research topic sounded spectacular enough to make a good headline.

It felt as if he had time  traveled back to his university years. The rooms were the same, trying to keep up with the  presentations was the same.  T he audience was maybe older than it had been, but they still could be neatly divided into three groups: The ones listening attentively and  actually keeping up (the scientists), the ones trying really hard  but only succeeding to a certain degree (the reporters), and the ones who'd already given up all hope and just wait ed for it to be over (Jack wasn't quite sure who exactly those were and why they bothered sitting there in the first place). The only difference was that nobody  threatened them with failing their exams if they didn't  remember everything the scientist had said. Jack even had  a couple of times the long-forgotten impulse to tell himself that he'd ask his roommate for further  explanations that evening.

Said ro o mmate had his own list of presentations to attend, and Jack only caught a glimpse of him a  few times during the day.  He did meet some rival journalists with whom he'd been working on the same story before, and they ended up forming a lose group,  the number of members fluctuating between presentations . Jack got some satisfaction out of the fact that from all of them, he appeared to understand the most.  Spending almost an entire day in a car listening to a rogue scientist had obviously payed off.

«  Did you have any luck? », asked he David when they met again at the end of the day.

T he doctor shook his head. He was less cheerful than in the morning, but otherwise did a good job at hiding his  disappointment.

« Not really. There is this one institute in  F rance who are following a theory similar to mine, but they are way too early. It will take them years to get to a stage where they might be of any use.  How about you? »

« Oh, I have a lot of notes. Now I only have to make a sensible story out of them. »

H e started that very evening, as usual forgetting everything else while trying to create a coherent retelling of the day, that would give back the main points of the  conference while also being interesting to read. And not too long, there were two more like it to come. He only returned to reality when David put down a bowl on his desk.

Jack blinked in confusion. « What? »

David's eyes were sparkling with amusement. He was holding a second bowl in his hand.

« Dinner. »

Jack looked back at his typewriter for a moment to see how much he'd done so far. It wasn't bad, but it definitely was not finished.

« Thank you, but I'll get myself something… Soon. I'll just finish this bit, and than... »

« It is past 10 p.m. »

« Really? » Jack looked surprised at the clock. « … Really. Oh. »

« You weren't lying when you said that you sometimes forget to sleep, were you? »

« No, of course not. » Jack pulled the bowl closer, so that he could see inside. It was a salad, a mix out of three or four different vegetables, with some cheese and a boiled egg. It looked depressingly healthy. « Thank you. »

He ate some, mostly because he didn't want to seem ungrateful, and was surprised that it actually tasted quite good. He told David, who had reassumed his place on the couch and was eating his own salad. He looked up and smiled at the compliment.

« I am happy to hear that. »

« I never have much time for these things. Or maybe I just can't be bothered, so I usually buy food that isn't much work. It can't rival my mother's cooking, but... » Jack shrugged.

« So you are not married, then? », asked David.

« No. I couldn't do this kind of work if I was. Not like I do it now, I travel a lot, and... » He made a hand gesture at the typewriter « … write at unusual hours. No, I'm quite happy this way. » Not to mention that he had yet to meet a woman whom he would have wanted to share his life with.

« I always loved cooking. My wife used to joke about me doing most of the housework. »

Ah yes,  the infamous wife whose death  had lead to the sudden change in his research.  Laura. Her name had been Laura.

« I've read about her accident. »

« Yes, you would have. » David sounded sad now. Jack tuned and saw that he was poking around with his fork in his dinner. As if he could feel his gaze, the former researcher looked up at him. « I suppose you've read every document about me that you could find ? »

« I pretended to be writing your biography. » Dr. Banner's life had been actually impressing enough for him to consider really doing it, but that was not something he had or was ever going to mention to anyone.

David didn't answer to that, and after a while, Jack turned back to his typewriter.

 

The next time he looked up, it was over an hour later and he was thirsty enough for it to disturb his concentration. Jack got up to get himself a glass of water, and noted on the way that David had fallen asleep, curled up on more or less the same spot where he had been sitting the last time he'd seen him.

He had almost finished. The end result was a lot shorter than one would have  expected given the time he'd spent at the typewriter, but that was usually like this. On the scene, you took all the notes you could, than cut the superfluous ones, than cut the rest that was not directly linked to the core of the story. Depending on what you were  writing for , you could add one or two funny details to make it more interesting. It was a little different if you were typing down the experiences from one day  of a multiple-day program.  In that case, it was more like a diary, but with the intention of the days becoming a complete story. The first day had to set the tone for the rest. Not everyone did it, but Jack found that his  writing was much clearer if he  worked this way. 

H e was thirsty enough to drin k two glasses of water, and took a third one back to the desk, just in case. He rubbed his face. Really not long now, but he  did have to finish this before going to bed. Behind him, David seemed to have an unpleasant dream. He was tossing in his sleep, murmuring “ N o” from time to time.

Jack started typing.  Behind him, David's  moans became deep e r and deeper.

_« It is not certain, that this research will get the funding needed to continue, therefore the people working on it ask the public... »_

«  No! » The next noise was an animalistic growl.

Jack spun around, suddenly realizing what was happening. He was just in time to see David open his eyes, but the warmth they always radiated was gone, and they had turned white. David growled again, than he started to turn green. His muscles grew, and filled out the slightly oversized shirt he'd bought at the gas station, until it couldn't withstand the pressure any more, and ripped open. The Hulk pulled it off his shoulders and tossed it away without a second thought.

The creature stood up and  roared , than went for the first thing it saw, which was the  couch .  It turned it over with one hand, than turned towards the  other person in the room .

Jack found that  without noticing it, he had stood up and pressed hi mself against his desk, his hands both clenching it behind his back, almost exactly where he had been sitting before.

The transformation on the field had been many things:  Miraculous , fascinating, beautiful, and yes, scary too. But watching the same process in a familiar setting was nothing but horrifying.  The Hulk was big. And strong. He had known that before, of course he had. But those had been a different kind of big and strong than seeing him in the room he'd stayed so many times in effortlessly move the  couch Jack himself had  once tried to push in vain away from the wall to get to his pen that had rolled behind it.

His brain seemed to have frozen down as the monster advanced towards him, and growled again.

The desk. The typewriter they all loved because it was top quality. Water. Papers. These things surfaced in Jack's mind, and he clung to them.

He couldn't let it damage the apartment. It was his responsibility, and there was written evidence that he'd let a stranger stay there with him. If he was not careful, it could cost him his job. The Hulk threw the chair at the opposite wall. Luckily, it was made of metal, and didn't break. Jack forced himself to stop staring and to concentrate. He could do this. He knew that creature, he'd talked to what must be every single witness to ever have seen it. _He had talked to the man turning into it._ Jack remembered all the people it had saved. He remembered David's description.

_« It isn't exactly evil, it just has very little self-control. It is driven by it's emotions. Dr. Marks had compared it to a child trowing a tantrum. »_

Jack didn't have any children, but he had just attended what had felt like a never-ending presentation about anger management in three-year-olds.

Little children sometimes act out because they don't know how else to express their emotions. Tantrums aren't even that much about anger, they might just want attention. Sometimes, they misunderstand their own emotions, and act angry when they are in fact frightened or hurt.

Frightened. David had had a nightmare before transforming, hadn't he? Maybe the Hulk wasn't enraged, but _afraid_.

_Stay calm._ Some people had told him that it had obeyed them when they'd been severe enough.

Jack took a deep breath, raised both his hands for the Hulk to see, took a step towards it, and did his best to use a calm, steady tone.

« David? » The Hulk growled at him. « David, it's me. Jack. Jack McGee. Remember? »

He tried to take another step forwards, but the creature grabbed his arm and  threw him back. Jack felt his back painfully collide with the rand of the desk, and  his arm knocked the full glass to the ground. It broke, and the water splashed everywhere. The Hulk  roared again at the noise.

« David, it's all right. It's all right. You're safe. David? It's all right, you're safe. It was only a dream, David, it  i s over now... »

The creature grabbed him again, this time by his waist, and pushed him out of the way. Than it took a threatening step towards the desk, and roared. Jack regained his balance as fast as he could, and leapt forwards.

« Don't!! »

The Hulk turned around, as if it were surprised. It probably was. Jack raised his hands again and took a careful step towards him.

« I am a friend, remember? David? A friend. »

It was standing still, thank God. Looking at Jack, it's head tilted a little to the side, as if it were listening to his words.

« Can you understand me? » Jack took another little step forwards. The Hulk didn't move. «  If you understand me, raise your hand? »

Slowly, the Hulk raised it's right hand, palm facing upwards. Jack carefully stepped closer.

« Very good. » He suddenly felt a lot more confident. If the creature understood him, than it was intelligent. Than talking to it was a realistic strategy. He put his own palm on that of the monster.

It's skin was harder than that of a human being, and it was big enough for both of Jack's hands to fit into one palm. But when the Hulk closed it's hand, it did so carefully, as if it knew how fragile the human was, and didn't want to hurt it.

«  It's all right. », repeated Jack. « We're safe. See? Nothing bad here. Safe. »

H e kept talking, and it seemed to be working, because the creature stood still. Carefully, Jack raised his other hand and touched it's arm. It let him.

« Come, sit down. Here, this way. Come. » He slowly lead it to the bed, which was at the moment the only sitting commodity still left in place. The Hulk obediently followed, and sat down. Jack followed it's example, still talking in a soothing voice, his one hand resting on the green arm, his other closed between those giant, yet gentle fingers.

« It's all right. I'm here. You're safe... » Over and over again.

Slowly, something began to change. The creature's expression seemed to become more peaceful. It let it's shoulders hang a little, and suddenly wasn't as big as just moments before. Jack could feel the muscle shrin k under his hand, and the fingers closed around his felt  less gigantic . The skin became softer and lighter, than the face  begun to transform, too.  Last to change were  it's eyes. Jack watched as the color slowly returned to them, and  than he was sitting next to Dr. David Banner, who looked around at the chaos in the room, than  buried his face in both hands. He was shaking lightly.

Jack took pity on him and gave him some space by crossing the room to switch off the light still burning on his desk. By the time he got back, David had had a little more time to figure out what had just happened. Not that it had done him much good, he looked closer to panic than Jack had ever seen him.

He sat down next to the trembling man, and gently laid the remains of the shirt that he'd collected on his way back around his shoulders. He let one of his hands rest there, on the nape of his neck, and rubbed gently his thumb in circles, waiting for the other to speak first.

« Did I hurt you? » Jack's eyes weren't completely used yet to the lack of lamplight, so that he couldn't see David's face, but his visitor sounded terrified. « Jack, did I hurt you? »

In the meantime, the bruises on his arms and his back would have become visible. Jack was really glad that he always wore long sleeves.

«  No. No, you didn't even break anything this time. That glass was on me, I knocked it over  just before you tran s formed,  and didn't have time to clean it up yet . »

David relaxed a little when he heard this. Jack realized that he'd never considered his point of view of the story, too occupied with the mystery. The pure horror the man must be going through every single time he transformed had just never occurred to him, until he now saw him trembling with shock.

«  Can I get you anything? » David looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. « You don't seem very well. », added he quickly.

The scientist shook his head and rubbed his face again.

« No, no. I'm fine, thank you. It's just... »

« I understand. », said Jack, and covered the now human hand with his own, his other thumb still rubbing circles on his neck. « It's all right. »

David shook his head. « I am usually not like this when I turn back. I don't now why I am so affected this time. »

« Maybe because you can? » Jack stopped rubbing, and let his hand soothingly run up and down over the torn shirt, playing with the shreds. He felt David move a little closer to him. « You said that you often wake up somewhere in a street? I suppose you concentrate all your energy on getting back to your place without being seen. »

« Yes, maybe. » David let go of Jack's hand so that he could bury his face in both of his. « Thinking about it, I've had this reaction in the majority of situations where I woke up somewhere I knew, without any immediate threat to myself. »

« It's all right. », repeated Jack. « You're safe. »

« Thank you. », whispered David. He was trembling now uncontrollably, and his body started to shake as if he were sobbing. Jack continued to caress his back, and David moved even closer, leaning against him.

They were sitting there for a long time, until David had stopped sobbing. He slowly let his still shaking hands sink, and looked up, his face wet with tears. Jack gently squeezed his knee. David smiled at him, uncertainly. He was still trembling over his entire body.

« I suppose this will take me a while. »

Jack smiled back, and lifted his hand to gently wipe away some of David's tears.

« Take your time. », whispered he, and before any of them could completely catch on, he had closed the other man in his arms from behind and pulled him down with him on the bed.

If he was perfectly honest with himself, he had seen it coming. It had started a long time ago, when he'd read Dr. Banner's files often enough to feel as if he personally knew him. It had started when he'd put his photo into his notebook, so that he could ask for him, and found himself looking at it in free moments. It had slowly grown with all the stories about how “David” had helped someone, every time the disappointment about having missed the Hulk passed and was replaced by excitement about being on Banner's traces. Every little piece of information assembled, every single one of them one more in the complex mosaic that was this mysterious scientist. Every time he had come closer to Banner.

When he had recognized him on the side of the road, he had already felt as if he'd known him for years. The Hulk had been his main priority during the past year, but Banner had come very close second. The excitement of finally solving the mystery had blinded him for a short time, making everything else unimportant. Once that had passed, once he had witnessed the transformation with his own eyes, once he knew that the two were the same… Jack pulled the trembling man even closer. _His monster._

He couldn't tell later how long they'd been laying there, but at some point, David had stopped shaking. What Jack knew for sure was that it had taken him far too long to notice that something was wrong.

David hadn't moved. He was still lying in exact the same position as Jack had pulled him when they'd lain down. He hadn't shifted to make himself more comfortable, he hadn't moved closer or away from Jack, hadn't put his hand on his arm, nothing. He had calmed down from his panic attack, true, but he hadn't said anything, and his breathing was regular, but shallow. As if he was willfully concentrating on remaining quiet.

« David? » Jack carefully moved away from his guest, and gently turned him on his back, so that he could see his face. David passively let him roll him over, still not moving an inch, and looked up to Jack. The streetlight fell on them and reflected in his eyes. They were wide open, but calm.

Jack instinctively reached for him, and laid his hand on his cheek. Still no reaction.

« Are you all right? »

David nodded. « Yes. » Something in his voice made it clear that the fear was still there, he only had it under control now. « What are you going to do with me? »

« What do you mean? », asked Jack, gently caressing his face. David averted his eyes, and when Jack's thumb brushed his lips, he flinched.

That was when the realization hit Jack, and he jumped away in horror. What must his behavior make it look like what he wanted to do? The worst was the calm in David's eyes, watching him with resignation.

« You… You don't… You don't actually _think_ that I... »

« I couldn't really stop you, could I? » David pushed himself up on his elbows. « I can't fight back without turning and seriously injuring someone. But I think I am getting better at managing pain. »

« David, I wouldn't... »

And than he understood the whole extend of the horror in David's words. An undocumented man alone on the street. Avoiding the police, forced to keep from using any kind of violence. He literally had no way of defending himself. And going by his reputation, David Banner wasn't naive, but he always assumed the best in people. Until proven otherwise.

«  _David._ » Jack couldn't bring his voice above a loud whisper. « David, please tell me you didn't let anyone _hurt_ you. »

David shook his head.

« Not like that, no. But I am getting better and better at being pushed around. I once even managed to get punched to the floor without turning. »

That he sounded proud hurt more than Jack could have expected. It actually cut his voice and left his head devoid of all thought. He was just sitting there, staring in shock at the man in front of him.

The scientist sat up completely. The sorry remains of his shirt slid from his back, but he didn't care. Jack felt a strong urge to close him in his arms, and never, ever let him go.

« You still haven't answered my question. », dragged David him back to reality. « What _are_ you going to do with me? »

« Nothing that you don't agree to. » Jack noticed that he had moved close to his guest again, and pulled away. « You keep the bed, I can get the cushions from the coach and sleep on them. »

He started to get up, but David held him back with his hand on his wrist.

« Jack. »

They were very close again, only this time, it wasn't Jack who had invaded the personal space of the other, looking earnestly at him with his warm brown eyes reflecting the light of the street lamps. It's negative influence on his rational thinking was spectacular, and before he could stop himself, he had spoken out the one thought that had been in the back of his mind since the field.

« I want to hold you, David. I want to hold you so badly. »

David smiled, and looked down at their hands. Jack followed his eyes, and together, they watched his hand slowly slide from Jack's wrist, over the back of his hand, gently caressing his fingers, each separately.

« And? »

Jack shook his head, eyes still on David's fingers playing with his.

« Nothing. I never really wanted more than that. You can imagine how many men have laughed me out of their bedrooms. »

David looked at him again. He was so earnest, how was that man always so earnest? Jack noticed himself getting lost in his eyes again. This time, he didn't mind.

« I wouldn't. »

Jack felt his breath hitch.

David really had this way of looking at someone, as if he understood exactly what they were feeling, and took those feelings very seriously.

« If you asked me. », added he, when it became clear that Jack wouldn't react.

It took him several attempts, but he finally managed to turn away his eyes. Two more, and he had regained his voice, even if it still was only a whisper.

« Than please stop looking at me like that. David... »

David let go of his hand and moved away a little, so that Jack once again had room to breathe. He was terribly grateful for that. He even managed to grasp the little something on the edge of his mind that was still holding him back.

« You didn't like it when I held you just now. »

« As I said, you do have to ask first. »

Their eyes met again, and Jack was taken away again by how serious David was. Flirting was usually a game of exaggerations, but that man meant every word.

Jack shifted a little into a more comfortable position and opened his arms.

« Come here, Dr. Banner. »

This time, they laid down facing each other, David's hand pressed against Jack's chest and his head resting on his host's arm. Jack held him as tightly as he could, and let his fingers run over his back, his human skin, through his hair.

_His monster._

They both fell asleep very fast, and way, way too soon.

 

He woke up surprisingly well rested, given that he'd been awake for  a significant part of the night. After turning off the alarm, Jack and David remained a mom e nt just looking at each other, than as if through a common agreement, they both got up at the same time, and started their day. None of them said anything about what had happened the night, but David insisted on cleaning up the broken glass. Obviously, he didn't  believe Jack's lie about it not having to do with him.

Bruises really had formed a fter the Hulk's finger prints, and Jack spent a moment tracing them with his finger before getting dressed. It wasn't anything serious and they would be gone in a few days, so he didn't waste too much thought on  them , worrying instead about his more urgent problems, n a mely that he hadn't finished writing the summary of the previous day.

Luckily, he really only had one paragraph missing, which he furiously typed down before leaving the apartment, completely ignoring David's comments on how he should eat something until the other man pushed a plate with a sandwich in his hands.

The second day of the conference was more or less like the first. Jack interviewed a very interesting sounding researcher about his work on a lie detector, and came to the disappointing conclusion that no, they didn't know how to read anyone's thoughts yet, and no, there was very little chance of that happening, besides, it was not the aim of their project. Oh yes, and most lie detectors were guess work any ways.

At the end of the day, Jack was persuaded that there ought to be some law in place that banned scientists from talking about the human brain.  _Permanently._ Despite of how little  respectively nothing they knew about it, they really managed to go on and on for hours  after hours, using a lot of  unintelligible Latin words, so that no normal person would  ever understand what they were  talking about .

He was the first one to get back, and  made use of it by sitting down at once at the typewriter, beginning the summary of his day. He proceeded astonishingly fast. The second day was always eas ier to write than the first, because he had an idea by than which direction he was going to go with the article, but it went even better than usual. He had almost finished and was already planning on starting with his official article about the lie detectors when David came in. He looked tired and a little defeated.

Not wanting to end the day like he had the previous one, Jack ignored him and continued his work. In less than an hour, he had finished and looked up to find David sitting on the bed and reading a book that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, because it definitely wasn't Jack's. He put away his papers and joined him. David didn't stop reading, but Jack couldn't exactly blame him for that, given his own obsession with the typewriter. Contrarily to what he had been expecting, the book was not scientific, but a novel.

« I wish we had some proper curtains in this room. », said Jack after watching him for a while. « We have been asking for some for long enough now. »

« Mhm. », hummed David and turned the page. Than, at least a minute later: « I'm sorry. What did you just say? »

«  Curtains. » Jack pointed at the curtainless window. « This gives one the feeling that the neighbors can see everything. »

« They probably can. » David finally looked up from his book. « At least if you have the light on. »

Jack only had to move his hand a little to the side to touch David's, and gently caressed it with his finger.

« Should I turn it off? »

« Not really, I'm fine. » David ignored the teasing touch, and turned back to his book. A few moments later, however, he raised his eyes back to Jack's face, without moving an inch. Waiting.

« David. » Jack moved a little bit closer. The scientist raised his eyebrows.

« Weren't you worried about the neighbors just now? »

« That is why I proposed to turn off the lights. »

« Mhm. » David was looking at his book again. But he hadn't pulled away his hand.

« David. »

« Mhm. »

« David. »

« Mmmm. »

«  _David._ »

He looked up again, his face still serious, but his eyes laughing.

« Yes? »

Jack forcefully kept himself from touching his cheek. It was tempting. It was so, so tempting.

« I am very close to doing something stupid right now. »

David finally closed the book, and turned his whole attention to him.

« Like what? » He sounded casually interested.

Jack let go of his hand, and pulled back.

« Like trying to turn the couch back on my own, and strain my back. »

David laughed and got up, leaving the book on the night table. Jack threw an interested look at the cover: It was a medieval romance.

It really took the two of them to turn that cursed thing over, than get it back where it belonged. Jack tried very hard not to think about how the Hulk had done it effortlessly with one hand the previous night. Instead, he pushed as hard as he could, and the couch slowly slid back on it's place against the wall.

David was already collecting the cushions. Jack let him, and instead crossed to his desk to turn off the light. In the dark, he carefully stepped behind his guest and let his hand run over his back, just over his spine. He was certain that he could feel David shiver under his touch, but maybe it was only wishful thinking.

« Come here. »

David turned around. His face was hidden between the shadows that has crept in the place of the lamp light. Jack finally allowed himself to give in, and stepped closer to the other man, reached out, and touched his cheek. David turned his face into his hand.

Jack laid his other hand on his shoulder, than slowly let it slide deeper, over his arm, caressing his hand, and finished by wrapping his arm around his waist. He pulled him close, and gently guided his head to rest on his shoulder, than buried his fingers into his soft black hair, holding him there.

The one who pulled away was David. He didn't do it very forcefully, just started to shift around, trying to get a little more distance between them. Jack let go of him as soon as he realized what his careful movements meant.

« I can't... » The scientist did his best not to look his host in the eye. « I can't do this. »

He didn't try to move further away, though, and Jack most certainly did not.

« Why not? »

David took an uncertain step back, and wrapped his arms around himself, as if for protection. His eyes were still directed to the floor. When he looked up, they were full of fear and pain.

« Because if I turn again, I might injure you, and I am not taking that chance. »

« You won't. », said Jack simply. Even if facing the Hulk the previous night hadn't given him more self confidence than was healthy, this was worth the risk.

David shook his head. « You can't know that. »

« I do. You won't. »

« But what if I have another nightmare, or.. »

« David. _You won't._ Now come here.»

It took a moment, but than finally, David nodded and allowed himself to be pulled towards the bed. Jack tried to silently convince himself that this was not what he had been secretly waiting for all day.

 

That night, Jack lay awake for over an hour, just watching David sleep in his arms. Three days, four nights, this was the third. They hadn't mentioned him writing the story of the Hulk down since the first day, and he knew that he couldn't bring it up again. He also knew that it was the only way to keep his guest from running away as soon as he was done with the conference.

Jack gently wiped a dark hair from the scientist's face, where it had fallen, and continued his caress over his cheek and down his neck, until he was touching the fabric of his shirt. As long as they were both still there, he would make use of every minute.

David suddenly tensed up and started to toss his head on the pillow, trembling. Tears escaped from behind his closed eyelids and run over his face.

« No. », moaned he. « No! »

Jack hissed his name, but he was far too deep in his nightmare to hear it. He watched in horror as the doctor's soft skin started to change it's color to something darker and rougher, and had to resist the urge of just jumping from the bed and fleeing to the other side of the room. He had promised David that he wouldn't transform that night. He had _promised_.

Waking him up was out of the question, at least directly. David was already terrified enough from the dream, scaring him even more would be a terrible idea. But so was letting him sleep.

Jack carefully moved a little. And a little more. David didn't react. Jack took all his courage and rolled around, still holding his guest tightly in his arms, pulling him with him. First he turned him on his back and rolled over him, than pulled him on his other side, in a position that had to be uncomfortable. To make sure that he got through, he than gently kicked him a few times.

It worked. David shifted around a little more, but than he'd obviously found a comfortable position, and calmed down. The nightmare seemed to have stopped, and his skin was human again.

 

The third day of the conference was, if possible, even more depressing as the first two. All researchers were either hopelessly behind or focused on another direction, and David watched helplessly as his last hopes of a cure slowly disappeared.

Well, if he was being honest, he couldn't even pretend that it was something unexpected.

He left early, and wandered around a little in the town. It was a nice neighborhood, that very obviously lived mainly of the university and it's students. Somehow, David found this idea a lot more demotivating than was in any way logical. The conference and all his colleges who were so excited about their work had had this effect on him since the beginning, and now was the moment he could no longer ignore it.

He belonged there. He was happy among them, he understood their way of thinking like a second nature, he probably could even say something productive to most of the discussions. But he couldn't be one of them. He could not let his disguise down, could not attract any attention. Not without any reason other than that he felt like having a chat about genetic research.

His profession was his passion. It always had been. He loved it, he was good at it. Being forced to abandon his research had been so very painful, maybe even more so than Elaina's death, and now being excluded from the scientific community was… It hurt. It hurt a lot. Not that he hadn't enjoyed much of what had happened the last year, seeing new places and meeting new people, but that was simply not the same.

After some wandering around, David found what he was looking for: A baker's shop that was open even Sunday afternoon. It had been more than obvious from the beginning on that of the two of them, he was the one who would have to think of the food. And to remind Jack that he needed to eat, the reporter's disconcern for his health was right out terrifying.

It was a small shop that smelled like freshly baked bread, with a man behind the counter who was a decade older than David, and smiled friendly at him when he asked how he could help him. David smiled back and asked for a loaf from the shelf, of which he estimated that it was around the right size for the two of them for that evening and the next morning.

« And by the way, », added he while the vendor was packing it in a bag. « I've just got into town, and I was wondering if you knew of anyone who's hiring? »

« Depends. » The man handed David the bread, and took his money. « What kind of job are you looking for? »

« Something manual, low profile. », answered David. « Where they don't ask too much for papers. I don't need much, just enough to pay for a roof over my head and something to eat. »

« Have you got any qualifications? », asked the man and leaned against the counter. It must have been a quiet day, and he was more than happy for a little chat.

« No. », said David. « But lots of experience in different areas. »

« Any good with computers? »

David thought back fondly of the one they'd had in the lab.

« A little. »

« The local library is looking for someone. A bit of everything, as far as I've understood. Cleaning, putting back books on their places, cataloging, and you should know enough about computers to use them if necessary. Funny things, those computers, aren't they? »

« Yes, very. » David smiled. « And some people really say that they are the future. »

« I wouldn't want my data in one of those boxes if you'd pay me. », said the man. « Where does it even go? I'd be afraid that it gets lost somewhere and I'll never see it again. No, I'll stick with paper, than you. Nice simple and overseeable. »

« Depends on how much data you have. » Back at his time as researcher he'd sometimes felt like drowning in paper.

« Suppose. » The man shrugged. « Anyways, my wife works at the library, I can warn her that you'll come along? »

« That would be great. » David smiled at him. A job in a library sounded perfect. He'd have to come up with an excuse about the identity papers, of course, but it was worth the extra effort for being in a quiet place with easy access to information, and the close proximity to the university was a bonus.

« She'll be at work tomorrow morning. », said the man. « I'd call her now, but she is out there somewhere meeting up with her friends. »

« Well, I hope that she has a very good time. » David took the bag with the bread from the counter. « Thank you very much, and a good day to you! »

« Yes, same to you! » The man straightened up, and turned his attention back to doing whatever he had been doing when his customer had come in.

That went surprisingly easy, thought David as he left the shop. Usually, he had to spend days asking around for a job before somebody knew something.

 

It was the first time that David was back in the room before Jack, and he made good use of this by sitting down with his book. It was depressingly close to the end, and once more, David stated that he read far too fast. He hadn't read many novels since Laura's death, and even after all this time, he still couldn't help himself but to wonder what she would have thought about them. She'd liked history, so she probably would have complained about how terribly inaccurate it was, and they would have laughed about it.

He had picked the book more or less at random, mostly just going by the price and the number of pages. It played in the past, that was good. That would remind him of Laura, and the way she used to say _“Actually, in that time period…”_ It was not a bad book, a nice little story, well-written and with some romantic drama thrown in for good measure, but it wasn't outstanding, either.

That would only make it easier to leave it behind when he would have to move on. Of all the things worth carrying around across the country, a collection of books was not one of them.

He was just at the part where the prince got ready to abandon his throne so that he could marry the girl from a close village with whom he was immortally in love ( _actually, the_ _chances of a prince leaving behind his heirdom_ _…_ ), when Jack came back. He had a new sheet of paper in the typewriter before his coat was off, and David could feel how much he annoyed him by bringing him a sandwich and a cup of tea. Well, it was his only hope of getting him to eat something.

The prince and the girl couldn't run away, because her brother found out about their plan. She got locked into the house, and her father challenged the prince to a duel. Oh yes, Laura would have loved this. ( _A_ _ctually,_ _peasants weren't allowed_ _…_ ). Meanwhile, it had gotten dark, and the rattling of the typewriter stopped around the time that David got to the end of a chapter. He didn't start the next one, but also did not put away the book. Instead, he kept pretending to read, while he focused his senses on the man behind the desk.

Jack was watching him. David could feel it, and he saw it when he risked a careful glimpse from the corner of his eyes. It was the intense hungry look again, the one that had scared him so much on the field and that he had seen one or two times since. Meanwhile, he knew that it was not directly dangerous, but it still made him pretty uncomfortable.

McGee hadn't given any sign of wanting to keep David trapped, but he was not sure that that meant that he would just simply let him go.

Finally, the reporter turned off the light and stood up. David closed the book. He still didn't look directly at him, but he could hear his steps and feel his presence as his host stood behind him, invading his personal space. David didn't move, and Jack sat down, close, so close.

His first touch was so light that David almost couldn't feel it. He was wiping a hair out of his face, smoothing it behind his ear, than letting two fingers slide deeper, over David's neck.

« Can I? », whispered he, and it was so close that David almost could feel the words.

He nodded, and the hair slid back on his forehead.

Jack put his arms around him and David gave in, leaning back against the other man. The reporter held him tight, and it was just as much of a relief than it had been the other times. He hadn't even noticed how much he'd missed physical contact. It was a luxus, and a dangerous one, too, since a bad dream was enough to turn him into an uncontrollable force of destruction. He did not, _did not_ want that to happen near someone he cared about.

They were sitting like this for a long time in silence, the only noise their breathing and the distant traffic. Jack had got hold of his guest's hand, and was stroking it with one finger, while David had closed his eyes and focused all his attention on the body behind him. It was very soothing, to just listen to Jack's regular breathing and feel the rise and fall of his chest, and he had only to turn his head a little, and could hear the beat of his captor's heart under his ear.

« We should go to bed. », said Jack finally. It was only a whisper, but it still made David jump as he got ripped out of his half-dream state and back to reality.

Jack didn't comment on it, and when he received no protest, he took it as an agreement and stood up, pulling his victim with him. He didn't let go of him, though, and kept his arm wrapped tightly around his waist as he pulled him to the bed. As soon as they'd lain down, he reassumed his previous position, holding David tight enough to make any form of protest feel impossible.

But the spell was broken, the relaxed atmosphere gone, and David found it impossible to get it back. He had tensed up again, and started to tremble slightly. Apparently, that was his normal reaction to being touched in a way that made him uncomfortable. Another thing he hadn't known before his careless experiment. It was such a small sign of discomfort, really not important, but of course Jack picked up on it. Naturally, he was pressed closely against him, and had by now been often enough to know what was normal for his captive and what wasn't.

« David? »

David hadn't made any attempt to move away, so he didn't let go of him, but he did try to change his position a little, his grip becoming a little gentler.

David forced down the shock, and tried to find his voice again.

« I'm… fine. It's just… Just a nervous tic. I'm fine. »

« Of course. And what is the truth? »

« I'm fine. »

« David... »

But he didn't press him, just lay there, with his arms wrapped around him, waiting. It was not a bad strategy, and in the end, David gave in.

« I am just not used to this any more. I… I worry that something might happen. »

« You won't hurt me. » He sounded so determined, as if there was any way he possibly could know.

« But... »

« You won't, and I am not letting you go, unless you ask for it. Now sssh, get some sleep. », and with that, he stopped moving at all, just rested his forehead against David, and his breathing soon reached a good, steady rhythm.

That was the moment that David realized that Jack had not been lying about his intentions towards him. It shouldn't have come as a surprise, but somehow it did. He did not believe that McGee was a liar, at least not more than was normal for someone working at the _National Register_. But he wasn't stupid, either, and giving David some extra time to gain his trust and lure him into a sense of safety would have been a clever move. It prevented him from running away, and multiplied the chances of him saying yes once Jack made his move.

It was a clear strategy. The one thing that David didn't understand, was why he himself tolerated it. It was obvious where this was headed. It was also obvious that a few days earlier, David wouldn't have let Jack cross a certain line under any circumstances. To his surprise, he realized that that line was a lot blurrier than it had been.

Why he had let the other man get so close… Probably because he had been so starved for affection that he would have done anything for it, no matter how strange or dangerous. Friends, he had had found everywhere during the past year, but almost none of them knew what he really was. And none had made any attempt to touch him, or he them. That would not have been fair, since he knew that he would be moving on soon. He also would have felt guilty towards Laura and Elaina, even if he knew that he had no reason to. Had he been the one who'd died, he would have wanted them to find someone.

But Jack was different. He was the only other living person who knew the whole story, and he'd seen all the ugly details. He'd been there after the creature had wrecked havoc often enough, he'd seen the damage and talked to terrified witnesses. He had seen the creature itself, how terrifying and inhuman it was, and faced it without flinching. He knew how little control David had, had seen him turn in his sleep, yet he still insisted on sharing his bed with him. He knew that David Banner was a monster, but he didn't mind.

Jack's grip wasn't as firm as it had been the other nights, and David made use of his new freedom of movement by turning on his other side, so that he faced the journalist. Jack was vast asleep, but he seemed to feel the change, because when David put his arm around him, he moved closer, his forehead pressed against his chest instead of his back. It was the first time that he was holding him instead of being held, and as David buried his face in the reporter's hair, he wondered that maybe it wasn't just him. Maybe McGee was just as starved for physical affection as he was.

 

It was raining again the next morning, and a single look out of the window made Jack want to pull the blankets over his ears and spend the entire day in bed. So did the warmth and closeness of David's body, and Jack buried his face deep in his chest, trying to stop time and stay in that moment.

He was just as unsuccessful as all the other times he had tried the same thing.

Jack made a muffled and slightly embarrassing noise of protest when David pulled away, his warm body replaced instntaneously by a rush of cool air. He looked up, shooting the scientist a very angry look.

« Good morning! », greeted David, definitely too cheerful for a weather like this.

Jack glared at him. David smiled back, than reached out and caressed his face.

« You know, I hate to mix into your business, but if you'd slept for more than just a few hours each night the last three days, you would be much better rested. »

Jack closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the way David's fingers now slid into his hair. This was new. He'd never touched him like that before.

« I don't sleep well with unfinished work. »

« Yes, I noticed. »

There was something new in his tone, and Jack opened his eyes again. David was looking strangely at him, intensively, his eyes earnest, but soft, focusing their full attention on his face. It was… Not entirely unpleasant, but completely new terrain, and it could lead them to unexpected places if he chose to follow on. Places Jack didn't want to go.

They remained in that position for a few more moments, looking at each other, David's hand smoothing down Jack's hair, but when he noticed that he wouldn't get any real reaction, he pulled back, and got up. Jack followed his example, now fully awake, but still angry at the undefined entity responsible for the cold.

Before he knew it, they'd both fallen into the very hectic morning-of-a-multi-day-trip activity of running around and packing their things as fast as possible, while getting dressed and having breakfast at the same time. Apparently, they both had enough practice in this, because they were astonishingly efficient. For a day that had started with him not wanting to wake up, Jack was dressed, fully packed and ready to go _before_ the time he'd originally wanted to leave. That was a first.

He looked around the room. Everything was in it's place, like always. Dishes clean, electric devises disconnected, heating tuned down, note left for the Next One, checklist of mobile objects completed, and the broken glass reported. He'd have to check that with Tania, she was responsible for their materials. Knowing her, she would make him buy a new one. Two, if he wasn't fast enough with reporting it.

David was waiting at the door, his leather bag hanging from his shoulder. It was a small bag, he didn't carry much more than a change of clothes and some money, probably to better blend in. He was wearing the same clothes he had when Jack had picked him up on the side of the road, except for his shirt. This one looked the same, though, he must have bought them together.

« Ready? », asked he, and Jack nodded. He stepped next to him, and tuned the key in the door. But a moment before opening it, he hesitated.

As soon as they were out of the door, this however fragile something between them would be over. He would go back to his office, write the article about the conference, and jump on every rumor about the Hulk, enjoying the opportunity to work on something really big. He would take his job seriously, like he always had, and hunt the creature until the ends of the Earth. David would keep running, running from the public and running from himself, never staying long in one place before leaving it behind on the chase after some vague shadow of a hope of a cure. He would help people wherever he could, before disappearing from their lives, never to be heard of again.

Jack let go of the door, turned around and pulled his monster into one last hug. David closed his arms around him and held on, as if he too didn't want to let go. Jack pressed his face into his shoulder, and felt David's head come rest against his.

_Don't go, don't go, please don't go._

Aloud, he said : « I will continue to report on the Hulk. »

He could feel David take a deep breath. « I didn't expect anything else. »

Jack combed his hand through his hair. It was still just as soft and warm as it had been two days before.

« David. »

« Hm. »

Jack moved his head a little, so that their cheeks were pressed together, and whispered the next words directly into his ear.

« I am hunting the creature, not you. »

He tightened his grip one last time, holding David with all his might.

« Next time you see me, don't run. »

With that, he let go and opened the door.

 

The rain wasn't heavy, just enough to was h away all of the colors o f the street. Jack opened his car and threw his bag in the trunk.

« Do you need a lift? »

David shook his head.

« No, thank you.  I think I'll stay for a bit. This town is just as good as any other. »

«  Well than. » Jack held out his hand. « It was a pleasure meeting you, Dr. Banner. »

David took it. He had a firm grip, but not firm enough to make anyone uncomfortable.

« Likewise, Mr. McGee. »

Jack watched him as he turned and walked down the road, in the direction of the university. Just a dark haired man in the rain, whom people would have difficulties to describe as anything but “ordinary”.

He didn't look back once.

**Author's Note:**

> So, that took me a while. I'm thinking about doing this after the other seasons, too, it will be funny to see how my view of the characters changes over time. Of course, writing fanfic still isn't the same as READING fanfic, so if anyone would like to join me, I'd be most grateful. ;-)


End file.
